


Fear Nothing: A Story in Three Parts

by cypherd



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, M/M, minor use of expletives, pairings are only referenced, pre-aperture, pre-meditated psychological horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 20:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3663279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cypherd/pseuds/cypherd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone fears something. Especially if that something is nothing. A tiny brained, moronic little nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caroline

Part 1

The line of cars rolled into view on Main Street with the procession lead by a gleaming black Lincoln limousine. Affixed to the headlights of each vehicle a small white paper flag proclaimed to one and all the simple cautionary message of ' _Funeral_ '. The police squad car bringing up the rear kept a watchful eye out for drivers irreverent enough to forget to allow the somber proceedings to pass undisturbed.

There was not a lot of traffic out and about to begin with. The media circus around this particular funeral compared favorably with the pomp and circumstance following any film or political celebrity death. Predictably the sidewalks were lined with people conveniently doing their shopping on a Tuesday afternoon or knocking off work for a lunch break miraculously just in the nick of time to rubberneck. No one could prevent the prying eyes that followed the linear path of the hearse as far up the street as they could. Some chose to remove their caps or bow their heads. A few were even crying, but dry or tear-blurred their gaze was drawn towards the tinted black windows and the long boot of the trunk that now held all that remained of one of the finest Scientific minds the world had ever seen.

Crying, Caroline thought from her vantage point in the rear seat of the same limousine, was pointless.

Doing so was not going to return Cave to life nor would it have cured the cancer that had spread throughout his body as he insisted upon experimenting with the moon rocks to make the conversion gel. The project had been unfortunately the one thing the two had vehemently disagreed upon but now that it was left unfinished Caroline felt herself obligated to see it through to completion. Under much more advanced safety precautions, naturally.

It had eventually become an exercise in futility to argue with Cave as his condition deteriorated. He became violent instead of passionate, his brilliance tinged with insanity as he demanded projects that involved an ever increasing number of unusual uses of the Aperture technology. Everything from omniscient A.I.'s to exploding fruit.

She would grieve in her own way. Neither an emotional outburst nor her preferred clinical approach to this ceremony would change anyone's opinion about her. There were a great deal of women who would like access to the Johnson fortune and it was no secret that it was the opinion of many that she was a gold digger who had finally broken through Cave's defenses to get her greedy hands on what was to be a fine sum of money even after the effects of his illness that had been leaked to the press had caused the stocks to drop in value.

There were whispers that Aperture was going to disappear: the witch (herself) would dissolve the company and run away with some handsome young man to some far off island paradise.

The truth of the matter was, Caroline and Cave were simply two people who had complimented each other. Whether the rest of the world wanted to believe she had seduced him into a romantic liaison or duped him into giving her all his money, that was their problem. She would do what she had always done.

What she must do. Nothing more or less than Science.

"Penny for your thoughts, ma'am." The driver said quietly from the front.

Caroline gave a little jump, realizing with frustration that as she'd been caught up in her thoughts over Cave she had stopped paying strict attention to the paperwork she had brought with her. It was what would Cave would have said she should do. Something like: _Science doesn't take a break for death, Caroline. Write that down!_

"Nothing." She replied as brusquely as possible, realizing too late that her reply made no sense in context. She bent her head once more as though to look suitably busy and disinterested in any sentimentality from a man whose job it was solely to get her to her location. Although it frustrated her, she could not bring herself to keep her attention on her work. In her mind, she kept replaying the fondest memories she had of the dead man in the back of the hearse.

* * *

She could well recall the first day she had arrived at Aperture. Caroline had always been interested in Science (any type) but despite her aptitude and determination in every field she was a woman of her time and whether she liked it or not thusly hindered by her gender. The secretary at the front desk had clearly been a total moron in her opinion, assuming she had wanted an office job ("Typing? No? Filing then! Ummm, Cafeteria?") no matter how much she tried to explain otherwise. In the end, she had formulated a plan and filled out the form just so she could put her foot in the door. It had taken a few incredibly boring weeks of alphabetically organizing manila folders in file drawers and hours of being on the phone with some squeaky-voiced secretary twat before she finally managed to wheedle her way into an appointment to see Cave Johnson.

She was going to make every single one of those precious five minutes count.

" _Mr. Johnson will see you now."_

Caroline stood and marched past the secretary, right into the office and took a breath before the man could even get out a word. This shocked him she could tell, but she was not about to deviate from her plan.

" _I think you could use an assistant. I know I would make an excellent assistant to you, personally. I have a fine list of credentials and a degree to back up my claims, Sir."_

He got over his initial shock fast. " _Do you really think you're the first skirt to come in here trying that line? I don't need an assistant missy. I've got a secretary to bring me my coffee when I want it. What did you think this place was? Some kind of Hugh Heffner Playboy operation?"_

He bent his head as though to unceremoniously dismiss her but Caroline knew she'd been right about the kind of man he actually was. " _I'm not here to get your coffee or anything else. I want to do Science and Science doesn't get done in an office."_

For awhile, they glared at each other. Cave looked around at his own office from where he was preaching and for one dreadful instant Caroline believed she'd gone too far. The next moment the head of Aperture burst out laughing.  _"Alright. You've got spunk. I like that so I'll try you out. However, you probably are going to have to get me coffee once or twice. By coffee, I mean Scotch. Scotch is necessary for Science and you'll start tomorrow. I trust you know what time Science gets done around here."_

_"Yes Sir Mr. Johnson!"_

He raised an eyebrow at her inviting her to continue.

_"Science doesn't stop, Sir."_

* * *

She jolted just slightly as the car rolled to a complete stop and she stepped out as smoothly as if her thoughts had not been previously occupied by the fondest memories of her life. All eyes shifted to her as she joined Douglas Rattmann and three other men who were to serve as pall bearers.

Two of the others she knew from his research team: A tall burly fellow with dark hair who looked obscenely uncomfortable in his formal mourning attire and a thinner reedy looking man with a somewhat weak chin and glasses. Their names were Rick and Craig respectively if she remembered correctly. The fourth younger man she didn't know at all. Given the turnover rate in the department, it was almost ridiculous to know anyone's name unless they'd managed to make it all the way up to Doug's personal staff or had done something monumentally stupid enough to get themselves fired. Cave's was certainly not the first life to be lost to Aperture's demanding and dangerous workload. Whoever the fourth was, he was probably competent enough if Rattmann had saw fit to hire him, but now was not precisely the time for such contemplations. Instead she gave the group a cursory nod and went to take up her place of honour following the coffin as they moved forward into the cemetery grounds.

"We are gathered here today to mourn the death of Cave Johnson and celebrate and take comfort in the brilliance of his life and work…"

The resident official and minister delivered a brief but celebratory eulogy of a non-religious basis, praising the ingenuity of Cave's work and his dedication. Caroline felt it was suitably appropriate that they spare a man who worshipped science the insult to his memory of a religious funeral. There were of course flowers by the dozen as not even the CEO of the largest company in his field got away from having blossoms brought to his graveside.

Apart from the coffin itself (finest mahogany and stamped with the Aperture logo in gold), there was little of the flair in the occasion that had come to be expected from Cave Johnson, in part because no one had been able to locate his final will and testament. Caroline herself had practically overturned his office in her search for the documents. His team of lawyers had been contacted and yet no one seemed to have papers or ever heard of his attempting to set down a hard copy of any such plans other than the single recording that wished for his assistant to be left in charge of the facility and the company if he were to succumb to the illness. Considering he had in the same breath began babbling about putting his brain into a supercomputer to run the labs posthumously, it wasn't much to go on – but the cold fact remained that it was all they did have. In her first act as the acting CEO of Aperture, Caroline had fired the lawyers and arranged for an expensive catered gathering for the employees (minus of course the hobos) following the more public proceedings.

* * *

The clack of heels on the wood floor of the reception hall alerted Douglas to the approach of the woman who was now his boss. He sighed and prepared for the necessary show of pleasantries. Cave had been good to him, giving him a job and he'd believed he'd been good in return by doing that job to the best of his abilities. The whispers of questions followed him as well: would Rattmann work for a woman? The answer was simple: as far as he was concerned he had no designs to leave the company over something so trite. So long as Caroline kept the managerial standards as high as he expected he would continue on.

"How are you holding up?" he asked as she approached. That was the sort of thing you said during these things, wasn't it?

"As well as can be expected." She gave him a brief handshake. "Thank you for your services during this difficult time."

Douglas nodded. "I expect you are interested in resuming work on the Conversion Gel Project tomorrow?"

"Absolutely."

That was one thing that Doug had always liked about Caroline, although he knew her terseness was not for his benefit he had always appreciated she was there for the same reasons he was. "I'd like to discuss the team I want to put together for the renewed experimental procedures."

She raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

Knowing he was going to be dropping a rather large request that on such an occasion as this might be construed as something of a bombshell, Doug began to fiddle with his tie. "Rick and Craig are on board for this. They're the two that—"

"Yes, the ones that have been with you since the beginning. I know who they are."

"I made two hires in the past month. One, ah, in the last week."

Caroline pursed her lips and when she spoke it was in a rather clipped tone that Rattmann had been expecting. It still made his already high level of paranoia over public speaking increase in intensity. "That's extra money from the budget." She was evidently waiting for him to justify himself.

He took a deep breath and continued, trying to keep his jangling nerves from speeding up his voice into the unintelligible registers. "The one who was with us today – Neil - is an Intern. We don't have to pay him as much. He's already shown that he has quite a bit of knowledge and experience, especially regarding this moon-rock business. I've read the article he's had published in  _Astrophysics_ _and_ _Space_ _Science_  and it seems sound but it's not my specialty so I phoned his references. According to them he's supposed to be some kind of prodigy." Douglas fiddled with his clothes some more, wishing he had his lab coat or at least a nice cup of coffee. Presentations to anyone higher than himself were Craig's specialty, but Craig knew nothing at all about either of the new hires yet.

"I suppose this other new full-time employee will be showing up tomorrow?" His boss's posture shifted slightly, looking at him more aggressively. The message was clear: If he doesn't, he shouldn't bother to come back the next day or the next after that.

Doug wanted out of this situation immediately if not sooner so he swallowed hard and forced himself to continue. "I told him to attend the funeral today. I think he's around here somewhere. Look, he's not as good but he's older and more experienced."

"Very well, I'll pencil you in for tomorrow. If you see him please tell me I'd like to speak to him."

Caroline watched as the fittingly named lab rat nodded jerkily once and departed at high speed, leaving a lingering trail of pen-ink and stale coffee smell that even a well-pressed suit couldn't seem to remove from his person. She let him go realizing he'd probably send Craig up to speak to her tomorrow once he'd sorted things out.

She began scrutinizing her surroundings. She barely recognized most of these people, although she knew for certain that they all recognized her.

Doug's concerns were filed away in her mind to deal with tomorrow. Right now, she had to continue her rounds, express her condolences to others who had known Cave and introduce herself more formally as the acting CEO. It was partially up to her to reverse some of the rumours about her intentions for the future of the company.

Picking up a glass of wine and pleased that it was every bit as good as the expense she'd paid for it, she turned a few steps and came very close to spilling it as she nearly walked into a solid body. She instinctively held her glass up and away from her as he did the same, hoping to balance the liquid inside.

"I'm very sorry, I didn't see you there."

Caroline's first thought was:  _How could you not?_ It was followed swiftly by:  _How could_  I  _not?_

"I guess…" he paused, inspecting his white shirt for stains. Finding none, he caught her gaze again. "I guess I was a little nervous. Dr. Rattmann said you wanted to see me? Oh, I suppose it's hard enough on a day like today, not to mention meeting the boss on top of that. Please let me make it up to you."

If Caroline had been a different sort of woman she would have been either very unnerved or very taken in by this man on sight. He had a razorblade smile and a gaze that caught hers and held it with no trace of the nervous twitching she'd endured from her previous discussion. He adjusted his glasses (square and fashionable) and brushed down his suit.

"Let's try this bit again, shall we? Hullo. I'm Wheatley." He held out his hand. He was actually wearing gloves. Caroline wondered if it was a quirk or if he had simply tried to seem more classy than she suspected he truly was. He obviously knew how to make his English accent work to his advantage and it was clear that he was well aware that he was in some way conventionally attractive.

"Charmed."

He toned down the smile. "Must say, I admit to being a bit over enthusiastic at the worst of times. I'm sure you are most distraught over this. Mister Johnson was indeed a fine man." He gestured grandly around. "I should say that perhaps it is not the best of times to discuss the nuances of our little project, but as a man I admire once said: Science never sleeps."

That almost stopped her but professionalism demanded she move ahead. She gave him a nod to show that he had at least managed to capture enough of her attention to allow him to continue. They began to walk along the mahogany framed photo gallery that had been set up in tribute to Cave. "What ideas then Wheatley, do you intend to bring to Aperture?"

He glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye. The smile was back. "I had heard tell that there was a position open for an assistant? I believe my considerable talents – and they are  _bloody_  impressive, I assure you – they would be much more suitable there."

This time Caroline did stop, replaying her earlier memories of her own, similar speech. She was nobody's fool however and this Wheatley, whoever he was bore looking into. There was something about him that simultaneously drew her in and repelled her immensely.

"More wine?" he asked politely.

She glanced at her glass which was indeed down to its dregs. She firmly set it on the tray of a passing waiter. "Thank you, but no. Our chat is over for the time being. I am a busy woman. However, if you are serious about applying for a job as my assistant, you know what time to arrive tomorrow."

He nodded, his sharp smile blossoming ear-to-ear this time. "Of course, Ma'am. Ol' Wheatley knows."

Caroline walked off smartly, glad to be shot of him. He got into her head somehow. Like he knew what she was thinking…or, like a tumor. Time would tell.


	2. The C.E.O

Part 2

Aperture's employee apartments were in a gated community, a fine block of duplexes, gilded with posies for the executive staff and top scientists and a set of tasteful low rise apartments for the office workers. Despite the amount of time she spent at the office or with Cave, Caroline herself had always spent the money for the upkeep of her personal premises and now, walking into a house that was clean and cheerfully lighted, she was sincerely glad she had.

The two Dobermans resting in the corner raised their heads as she arrived. Caroline was not the type to natter at her animals as though they were humans but she did assume that her pets were wondering why they had been moved and where her loud companion with the test tubes had gone to. She sighed.

There was never any sense in procrastination so she removed her skirt and blouse, put her high heels into the shoe rack and once in her nightdress proceeded to pick up the phone and dial the number that the University Admissions secretary had provided her with. Harvard echoed Doug Rattmann's glowing review of Neil's accomplishments. It seemed that the young graduate student had not been idle; his resume seemed to boast several peer reviews that he had published solely for the padding of his resume and to boost his status in the scientific community. Caroline copied the titles, mostly to verify their existence than to research them thoroughly.

Hanging up with the Harvard secretary, she was forced to turn her attentions to the unfamiliar eleven-digit number with all its country codes and long-distance add-ons. It was apparently the number to Oxford University where Wheatley had studied.

Caroline simply picked up the phone and dialed the number. Now away from the enigmatic man, she was having even more trouble fathoming what was giving her pause.

"Hello, may I speak to Doctor Matravers?"

"One moment please." There was a pause with a vague static noise before a sharp, English-accented, and much to Caroline's surprise, female voice echoed down the line.

"Ellen Matravers, Department of Biochemistry." The woman's voice reminded her of a teacher she'd once had who had given Caroline several nasty welts with a ruler until her handwriting had become the fine, even script it was today.

"Doctor Matravers, my name is Caroline Johnson. I am the acting CEO of Aperture Science and I believe I just hired one of your former students: Wheatley Harris."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, or at least Caroline believed there had been. When Doctor Matravers spoke, it was with the same even, sharp voice with which she had answered the phonecall. "I'm familiar with Aperture Science Innovations. I am sorry to have heard of the loss of Cave Johnson. As to Doctor Harris, he held a post-doctorate student in our department until just last year."

"That's what it says." Caroline affirmed.

"He also holds a minor in Psychology." The good doctor continued. Caroline assumed that was the end of it and prepared to continue her questioning when the woman spoke up again. "Wheatley was indeed a protégée of mine. Perhaps not the quality I normally look for in the students I take on, Madam but absolutely a fine addition to your company."

Caroline nodded, despite the fact that the woman on the other end of the line could not see her.

"He's very charismatic." The chill in Doctor Matravers' tone seemed to frost over into ice. "Very charismatic."

The repetition sounded very much like a warning and Caroline was no fool. "I'll keep that in mind. As you can tell I've got his transcripts and resume however were there any other internships or jobs he has held down since leaving Oxford that you know of?"

The woman remained business-like but rather clipped as she assured Caroline that Oxford kept very tight tabs on what their alumnus did after leaving the institution and checked employment history carefully when giving references. The double, unspoken meaning behind the comment was crystal clear: I don't know how you run things in America, but we are professionals here in the United Kingdom.

"We are just following up, I'm sure you understand. If there are any more journal reviews or peer reviews outside of his field I would like to see them. We'd like to cross reference them with one of our new young intern's work."

Dr. Matravers sounded appeased from the earlier snub. "Of course Ms. Johnson. We already have your fax number."

Caroline put down the phone after delivering the remaining professional pleasantries and replayed the call in her mind. It had been no accident that she had given her surname as 'Johnson'. Black Mesa was probably already looking for ways into the proverbial vaults of company secrets and had no doubt been looking for truths in the rumours flying about her. There was a very real chance they had already tapped something as trite and unprotected as her residential phone line. Let them chew on that. She would retain her own surname within the company walls.

Shuffling a few papers just to give herself something to do, Caroline considered Wheatley's motives. She had two thoughts in mind for any potential threat he might actually be: the first was the one she had considered all along: that he was a Black Mesa spy. The second she had tried to write off as vanity or paranoia but had been reawakened by her call to Dr. Matravers as well as what the public thought of her; namely that the man was trying to seduce her into forking over a share of the company for himself.

Caroline got up, fed her pets and tried to put all traces of self-doubt and curiosity about her own ego out of her head. She was the head of Aperture now and she would find out in the morning what, if anything, was to be pursued on the matter.

She traipsed off to her bedroom and deliberately turned her head as she passed by the silent and dark guest suite of the house which would now remain as such for the rest of her days.

She arrived at the office by five am, had two cups of coffee in her by five fifteen and started working on the budget as she always did in order to force herself to slow down. Her practiced eye had the work done quickly and she was almost convinced she could do this all on her own by six thirty until she realized that apart from the excessive intake of coffee, this had been her morning routine for further back than she felt she needed to count. She was still doing her old assistant job, not Cav—the CEO's.

As if to punctuate her own thought, a click at the door in the office foyer came, and she could hear the march of feet as well as some shuffling. That was likely Craig, Neil and Wheatley. Belatedly she realized that there was no 'her' to announce their presence or let her in. Craig was smart enough to know not to knock so she pressed her eye to the crack in the door.

Four, not three people occupied the couch. She had predicted the first three but Rick as the fourth caused the fear to rise up in her belly once more. Seeing his bulky, muscular frame wedged between Wheatley and Craig was even more of a suggestion that she might still be correct to be worried.

It was an established fact that Craig and Rick were a homosexual couple. Cave had barely given the issue a second thought, informing the both of them that as long as he 'didn't see any fucking about on the premises' they were free to 'fuck in their own home'.

While there had never been any apparent sexual behavior beyond the occasional ass-pat that Caroline had ever come to see, Rick definitely liked to brag to anyone who cared to listen just how amazing he was in the bedroom. Many a lunch break had caused a very large outbreak of blushing and, depending on who you asked either an embarrassing or very entertaining row between the two which usually ended with Craig insisting he was not just Rick's bitch and that he was blowing smoke up his ass about the size of his cock.

Caroline had never cared much for office gossip, even if it was impossible to fully ignore, but she did have a fairly decent understanding about the nature of their relationship that if Craig was allowing Rick to accompany him for any kind of protection without comment then there was the chance he too had seen what she had in Whea—one of their new employees and it was a gesture to be observed.

She backed away from the door and sat down at her desk, shuffling Neil's papers to the top. Very well then. The Intern first. She walked back over to the door, put on her game face and opened it.

Four heads snapped toward her and Craig immediately stood.

"Good morning Ma'am. I've brought the new hires up for the follow up interviews you requested."

Caroline nodded once and turned her gaze to Rick.

"Don't mind me. I'm getting outta here and going back to the labs. Just wanted to see what all this plush office crap Craig talks about all day."

It was a Rick-like statement and action but also a very obvious lie. Not only did Rick hate office work and talked about it like it was poisonous but Craig barely discussed his meetings with her or Cave at all, save to express whether or not the project progress was met with approval.

She nodded. "Thank you Craig, Rick get back to work. Neil, I will see you now."

Neil stood and entered the office, his eyes darting around with nervous excitement. Caroline didn't have much to say to him after having spoken with Harvard the other night but she wanted to give the illusion she was concentrating equal treatment on both.

"Please sit down." She crossed the room and took a seat in Cave's chair, hoping it looked as natural as if she did it all the time. Belatedly she realized she had often sat right here, finishing up a report and enjoying taking advantage of her boss' ergonomic chair.

"I spoke to the people at your University and had a look at your Masters' thesis on the space program." She began. "However I wanted to question some of this other work you've done: articles on macromolecular science? A peer review in an Engineering journal?"

"Well, you understand how it is. It's difficult to get accepted to conferences or published when you're just an undergrad." Neil said quickly. He did meet her eyes, but they jumped around her face hyperactively. "I chose engineering and polymers as they're both important components and questions that get raised in Space travel."

It was a typical textbook student answer: exactly what she'd expected from a nervous first-timer.

"Tell me something about your career so far."

Neil launched into a quick explanation of his thesis statement, the classes he'd taken in Undergrad and some of his discussions with his adviser. Caroline picked up on a few key words but she was already quite convinced that Doug had picked a winner.

"Did you ever consider any other companies besides Aperture?" she asked finally cutting him off when he started to slow down and sputter, clutching at straws for anything else that would have padded his answer out more.

Neil froze. "I'm supposed to say 'no', but that wouldn't be true. I applied for Black Mesa as well. I wanted my first internship to be either here or there though, because well, you're the best." His hands fidgeted in his lap.

No. Caroline decided. He was no threat at all. Just a kid who wanted his first job and was willing to work to make himself as successful as possible. She would keep an eye on him later after his graduation. If he jumped ship in the hopes of getting better pay from a rival, then while she couldn't fault him she would be sure to ruin his future chances from the ground up. It was what Cave would have done.

That thought gave her confidence and she gave him a smile. "No, that was exactly the answer I would have expected. Good luck here at Aperture and remember that we reward loyalty as well as fine science. Go report back to Doug Rattmann and bring this with you."

She placed a stamp of approval on the application, added her signature, tore off the top page and set the remainder of the CV aside to put on file.

Neil looked relieved as he grasped the paper and all but flew out the door. She waited until she'd heard the ding of the elevator before rising from her chair once more. Ladies and Gentlemen: the main event.

Her second look at Wheatley was about as jarring as the first. He was in fact still wearing the gloves and cravat though he'd swapped the somber black suit for a grey waistcoat and of course, a white labcoat. He smiled and stood when she opened the door. She did not smile back as she had with Neil.

"Please have a seat." She parroted herself from before and was proud of the increased confidence with which she took up the CEO's chair. Wheatley beamed back, folding his lab coat neatly under him and staring up at her with a look of perfect attentiveness.

"Thank you luv. Sorry, Ma'am. Force of habit you understand."

"I made a call into Oxford the other day. Your references are very good however I would like to talk about our conversation at the funeral parlor."

Wheatley did not seem surprised by that. Rather, he launched into a rather pleased sounding, boastful review of his many accomplishments. Rather than the cocky smug tones she would have expected a spy to have taken up after being told she was considering his proposal, he was rambling fairly innocently but as though he was talking about his favourite subject in the world. It occurred to Caroline that he probably was.

"Well I am bloody impressive at filing, I'll have you know. I mean bam. With the letters and numbers and oh – what's the word? Alphanumerics! Yep, those. Plus I have a ton of ideas! I bet you gave Cave lots of ideas! For experiments! That's what I'm about! Ideas! Getting them done too! Ol' Wheatley, yep. All ready to help out!"

She almost expected him to stand up and salute. None of it had been what she had been expecting at all. There was no long involved track record of a perfect blameless employee who dotted every 'i' and crossed every 't', the hallmark of a potential threat.

But then, what about…

Her thoughts suddenly slipped back to Rick and Craig. She had to fight to control the blush of embarrassment she could feel threatening to make its unprofessional and inexplicable way onto her cheeks,e ven though her egomania if egomania it had been was only internally expressed and misdirected. Maybe Rick was the one who was concerned about Wheatley's interference into his relationship with Craig.

Caroline was no expert on relationships apart from those that involved science but there was a certain something about the way Wheatley dressed and she'd noticed it straight away. Perhaps the reason had not been her sexual identity but his.

She shook her head. She was seeing embezzlers and Black Mesa operatives everywhere. It was time to make some executive decisions.

"Alright Wheatley. Your resume says nothing about any office experience however I do need an assistant and you're the first to make any sort of proactive move in the application process. I like that: it shows dedication. However working with Doug and the boys as well as being my assistant is not going to be an easy job. If it looks as though you cannot handle it, we'll be looking for someone else immediately and you will go back to the labs."

The man across from her nodded, his bright blue eyes coming alive. "I won't let you down. Trust ol' Wheatley."

"You keep saying that. Let's see if you can deliver."

She marked down the situation and sent him to follow Neil down to Doug, instructing him to return as soon as he'd done so.

"Hey! Blondie! You ever get tired of playing the bitch to a woman!"

"Oh go nance off you twat. I make three times the amount of money you do, so why don't you go prance off back to the labs and think about that for awhile." The remark was accompanied by a huffy-sounding sniff.

Three months later, hearing that kind of jibe leveled in the boss' assistant's direction had become somewhat common place. The man seemed to be able to take care of himself so Caroline chose not to directly step in, apart from a subtle recalculating of who would be working on which project.

So far, it had appeared that Caroline's residential phone line had indeed been tapped. Somewhere in her possession were no less than three tabloids, published within a half-week of her initial hiring calls and all of which insisted that 'reliable' informants could verify that Cave Johnson wasn't dead and he had faked his own demise so that he could elope with his secretary. It also discounted not only Neil and Wheatley but most of the present staff as Black Mesa informants. In fact, the rival company had been very quiet. Too quiet

"Wheatley?"

"Yes luv?" He never had gotten over that but Caroline was used to it (as well as several other English colloquialisms) by now. "Please be sure to ask human resources to keep an eye on Black Mesa. They have been quiet for far too long. Also, who was that you were speaking to just now?"

"No one luv."

She raised an eyebrow. "I don't like being lied to. Who was he?"

"Um…" Wheatley was terrible with names to begin with but she knew better than to let any employee have even a finger hold on her, even for a second. "I think his name was…Ted. Yes. Ted. He works on the conversion gel project, you remember Craig was up here just a tick ago to tell me that Doug's finally finishing up. I can put him on something new if you like."

"What else is there?"

"Two secs luv!" He dashed back to his desk. "Alright um. There was…Mantis men: breeding the ones we have in captivity. Also human relaxation vaults and building a robotic aide for that and um…deadly neurotoxin and adrenal vapors in testing scenarios."

Caroline considered the list. "Tell Ted he's being moved to testing the Neurotoxin and Adrenal Vapors project."

Actually, all these ideas had initially been Wheatley's. The trick was that most of Wheatley's ideas were brilliant at their base but each suggestion also involved long, convoluted and ridiculously (emphasis on the 'ridiculously') dangerous execution procedures. It was really even a tiny bit like working for Cave near the end of his life, only thankfully she had final veto power over what would actually be accomplished.

They made a decent team as a matter of fact, even if it still did feel like treason to admit it. She reminded herself that he simply wasn't the caliber of secretary she was nor the caliber of scientist. She should remember her time with Cave as a well-oiled machine that would never again be seen by the scientific community but rather an experience that she had had the honour to be an integral part of.

Wheatley had saluted and was halfway out the door before he turned and offered a small smile. "Thanks."

She found him at the end of the day snoring on top of a pile of accounting reports, glasses dangling by one arm off his ear. She salvaged them from the dollop of drool that was threatening to spill out of the corner of his lightly snoring mouth and began to check them over. There was the usual erroneous calculation here and there. Sometimes in the debits columns, sometimes in the credits columns, never any more than forgetting to carry a one or deduct the tax markup from some supplier.

She marked over his mistakes and added the numbers properly, then went to get one of the blankets. He shrugged his shoulders and positively cuddled into it. He reminded her powerfully of her dogs when they slept and she began to wonder what could ever have possibly possessed her to see anything less than a hard-working, eager to please, if perhaps a little bit of an idiot of a man.

Her answer came the next morning. It started as usual: Wheatley came in with a cup of coffee. He had learned to make decent coffee even if he asked her if she wanted tea at every available opportunity and drained what seemed like gallons of the stuff every day. He seemed somewhat subdued.

Her suspicions about why were confirmed at the time he usually begged off for lunch; apparently he'd been rather brutally shot down by one of the test subjects (she'd been wrong about that too – if Wheatley did like men he certainly also liked women equally well) who had finally and in no uncertain terms rebuffed his rather clumsy advances. Instead of his usual schedule of racing off to try and woo his lady, he offered to clean out Caroline's office.

She allowed it, now long able to tune out his babbling conversation, something apparently even the most brutal rejection had not been able to leech out of him.

"So I was thinking we could…Hullo. What's this?"

The pronouncement was followed by the distinct sound of a pile of papers toppling over. Instead of a stream of muttered curses and worry, there was a definite edge to his voice. "I think I need to look this over."

He wandered away without bothering to clean up the papers. She filed it away as presently unimportant, though she would be having words with him if he'd just messed up her office and order was not later restored.

She allowed the break in the task to carry on awhile before she decided to see what had happened. She came across him ear-marking and annotating something that had been recently photocopied with a neon yellow highlighter, his expression almost gleeful and so unlike the man she'd seen last night that she was startled.

"What are you working on?" she was unable to help herself.

"Ohoho, just something very interesting I found in Mr. Johnson's office." He gazed up at her and it took all her willpower not to take a step backward and certainly not simply because of the aggressive way he was suddenly addressing her. The fact that he had referred to it as Mister Johnson's office had not escaped her. "I think you'll find it interesting too, luv." He drawled the last word, dragging it out in a purr.

She seized what was the original copy lying next to the photocopied one pinned under his arm. She recognized the handwriting at the top instantly but it was the words it spelled out that made her blood freeze in her veins.

This is the Last Will and Testament of Cave Marian Johnson

This was Cave's will alright. No one but her had ever known the secret that was supposed to go to his grave that his parents had named him after not an uncle named Marion but rather his Aunt Marian.

So that meant she'd been lucky, hadn't she? To be suspicious of whatever Wheatley had been intending, to find it before he had the chance to tie them up in legal battles with forgeries and loopholes.

"I'd like to see what you were working on, please."

"Of course." He handed over the highlighted ones. "I've of course already made calls to the team of lawyers and a back-up copy." He handed over the highlighted pages and Caroline could see that the stack beneath his hand was indeed twice as thick as the two sets of pages she now held in each hand. She stared at both. Nothing changed from what she could tell at first sight. The photocopies had black smears on the bottoms of pages. It would be impossible to pass them as forgeries. He couldn't have done anything that quickly. What was his game?

"I don't think I need to worry about anything else with these luv. I'll just put the backup copy here in my drawer, shall I?"

"Yes. Very good. Please clean up the office when you get a chance."

"Sorry luv I just forgot. I want a chance to talk to you anyway. I have some ideas for a new project. I think you'll know what I mean soon enough."

His smile and his cryptic statement followed her all the way back to her office.

A quick check on the phone records confirmed that Wheatley had indeed made the call. His words had been polite and professional, simply stating that he had the will in his possession and that he was sure that they would like to retrieve it immediately for analysis and of course to allow the long unfulfilled dying wishes of a man to be granted.

She put the papers aside for the present, choosing to behave as though nothing was causing her any concern. She collected testing reports, had Wheatley do some filing, run a few things back and forth between Doug, Rick, Craig and Neil and organize a company reward for the Conversion Gel team upon the successful completion of the project, minus of course the unfortunate Ted.

She meanwhile informed security to run security checks on her office from the day that Wheatley had begun work at Aperture but while he had indeed been in her office when she was not there, they reported nothing unusual about his behavior. He brought in coffee and took away used mugs, organized her desk, picked up things in her inbox and according to them had never seemed to have cause to go near that one messy shelf in the back until today.

She knew she could wait him out. Finally at eight o' clock he left to go home for the day. She counted out five minutes after hearing the door slam behind him before she pulled out the will and its highlighted photocopy.

She followed along the first page where Cave's immediate family and personal affects were listed. Thankfully she wouldn't be involved with those. Given that no will to date had been provided his family had held a private state auction and as far as she had heard of the issue, everyone had gone home happy. They could quibble over it if they wanted. She was not a part of the family and had no say in those matters.

There was a short passage, strangely untouched by the highlighter that named her as the successor to the company. It was almost word-for-word what had been said in the recording. She wondered if Cave had in fact been trying to write it at the same time he was dictating it.

She flipped over the page. Here started the highlighter marks.

She read through the part where Cave discussed his plan for a large chassis imbued with his will in it that would run the entire facility, followed by: '…and if I die first try to get my brain in there before it goes cold'.

'Goes cold' had been highlighted. She shivered involuntarily, trying not to think about what her boss' handsome rugged body would look like after 4 long months buried underground. She read on.

"If that's just not possible, I want you to fire whoever dropped the ball and then I want you to work on getting Caroline's mind in there in my stead. I want Caroline and her new assistant to make that top priority. Caroline's judgement on replacing herself with a new assistant will be air-tight and I give him or her full permission to make the GLaDOS project a success. Attached are the blueprints for the GLaDOS design."

Caroline read it again. The words 'her new assistant', 'top-priority' and 'full permission' all glared up at her in yellow neon. 'Air-tight' was double underlined in red.

She stared at it, barely able to feel a thing as she flipped through the rough sketches for the large robot.

She clicked out the light, letting the infrared sensors on the security cameras take over so no one would see her bury her head in her hands in the dark.

"Oh Mr. Johnson, I don't want this!"


	3. The Girl and the Robot

Part 3

Never in her entire life had Caroline more hoped to transfer the blame, any share of blame, to Black Mesa for her own traitorous and conflicting emotions. It had been their first real battle in the war that had forced Caroline to show her hand of metal and loyalty. The resulting shockwave and the revelation of what being Cave Johnson's assistant had truly meant had nearly sent her on a one way trip to the testing tracks back then. So she had done what she must not because she had to but because she knew she could.

From there, the rival company had become an enemy to be feared, and little by little she found herself seeing them as the shadows in the corners they really were, and had been all along, with their smooth talking, public relations loving team. Her eyes were open to the fact that they were never a threat and the discord and enmity had been borne of Cave's not-so-secret envy, even when he knew full well he had been doing better Science for years.

Hadn't he been?

People wanted what they couldn't have, Caroline mused, and right now she wanted for any of this to have been anyone's fault but that of the man she had so admired.

Or perhaps she should be careful what she wished for.

In her thought process she'd left the office and paced somewhere into the general office area. The dim amber light from now silent employee terminals flickered around her like a grim foreshadowing of the future she clutched to her chest on printed paper. In spite of all her warnings to herself not to panic she broke into a run all the way to the main power generator, throwing it on with fervor. One loud bang and the bright florescent bulbs flickered into operation, overpowering the eerie glow with brilliant white light

It offered a temporary respite from her jangled nerves. Maybe now she could think.

If it had been anywhere but Aperture, it wouldn't have been a problem. Anyone with the barest modicum of moral standards wouldn't have authorized them to test dangerous science on homeless people, let alone hire people willing to do anything to get the job done. If it had been anywhere but Aperture, the will would have been dismissed as the ravings of a man who would have just as readily believed that Caroline could have been turned into a magical fairy princess. He would have been deemed insane and Caroline could have moved on with a life without Cave that had seemed as impossible now as it had been at the outset of her grief.

Ironically, finding the people that would play privy to the mentality that at Aperture, Science got done, even if it was dangerous or impossible. Disposing of the riffraff or anyone who had compromised that way of thinking had infact been her very job. She might as well have co-signed her own death warrant.

Her nerves began to rise once more. With this very pen. This stupid Aperture Science embossed ballpoint pen. She raised her hand to fling it to the ground, even though the pen with which her contract had signed had been long depleted of use and was likely garnishing a landfill somewhere in the great state of Michigan. Somewhere near Rochester, perhaps. Her eyes glazed over and small squiggly lines and splotches of blue and warm orange burned in the sides of her vision as she continued to stare into the depths of an overhead halogen bulb in a trance, her rage turned quiet and inward again. How had she missed herself becoming complacent in her status as Cave's assistant? She had turned a blind eye to just how deep his insanity burned and now she was only just seeing how her own skin was blistering by standing too close to the flames.

Finally, Caroline dug the tips of her nails into the sheaf of papers and blinked moisture back into her eyes. Wheatley had seen it. Wheatley was exploiting it and he had always been doing so...

NO! Her mind screamed. No, he wasn't...couldn't be that over-prepared. He didn't outthink anyone, he was an asshole who got lucky. She was distraught. She was seeing monsters when there were only morons.

What to do next became perfectly clear. She had to get out of Aperture.

It didn't help that the closest 'out' of Aperture was her own gated, Aperture funded community dwelling, but at least it wasn't the facility proper. Belatedly, she realized she'd left all the lights on, and under consideration of the situation, dismissed it just as readily.

Sitting at home on her couch, still in her business suit but surrounded by her own (if austere) belongings and the natural organic companionship of her pets, it almost felt like she could call the police and put an end to it before it started.

Obviously, she couldn't of course. She allowed herself exactly five minutes of that particular pipe dream - precisely the amount of time needed for a clever woman to know that it wouldn't fly. Nonetheless, it had done its job as well as run out of steam. While the police might have toppled to her hysterical woman act, the best she'd be doing would be saving her own skin. If the law proper knew the kinds of things going on within the walls, and just how long they had in fact be going on, she could have destroyed Wheatley's master plan - (she distinctly needed to stop putting the words 'Wheatley' and 'master plan' in the same sentence) but when all was said and done, depending on how well she played her part, she would be ultimately going either straight to prison or straight to a mental hospital.

That would not be the way that she would honour Cave Johnson's memory. Somehow, she had always known that whatever she did, it would still, even now be for him. Perhaps everything she had ever done from the cradle - to however this all ended - had been as well.

She would be damned however, if she was going to be a giant robot.

* * *

The easy part was behaving the next morning as if nothing had rattled her. She waltzed in at an early 5 AM and naught but an expert cosmetician would have been able to detect the impeccable blend of concealer and whatever else Helen had done to disguise the circles around her eyes and draw attention to the makeup that drew out the accents of her kerchief and the amber flecks in her brown eyes.

"Good morning luv. Rest well?"

"Good morning Wheatley." Caroline didn't smile, this had never been the norm between them and she didn't care to change the pattern now.

"No one would have blamed you if you had taken today off, but Science never sleeps, does it?"

Grateful that the man had been stupid enough to give her the night off, she accepted her coffee, taking a measured sip, focusing on the flavour of it. He had of course not been stupid enough to poison her; everything at Aperture that he might have had access to had the distinction of having a queer taste of lemon to it. She swallowed and looked back at him, square in the eye. "I do believe the employees have a saying…?"

They did too. She'd heard it whispered in the halls, the reverent fear for punctuality held by any individual whose job held the real possibility of death.

"...if you don't show up for work, someone was sent to the testing tracks: you."

She didn't look back at him as she set about the immediate pressing task of draining her coffee cup, but it was satisfying to imagine every slight shift and scuffle in the background as a potential nervous reaction. Was that click a pencil dropping to the ground in shock? That sniff an awkward break of a stunned silence?

"I don't understand luv? There's a clause in my contract that states I cannot go to the testing tracks unless I am disloyal to the company?"

It took another very well-timed sip of coffee to hide the hitch in Caroline's own breathing. Damn her own body for its attempt to betray her like that. More than that, damn him. No one was that skilled at playing the fool. His garwsh and shucks (or was that drat and bother) routine was something she needed to get away from. Even now the seeds of doubt Wheatley had planted without so much as spelling it out were nibbling away at the edges of her sanity.

"Was it something I said?"

It wasn't until the buzzer that signalled the ten 'o' clock break for the office workers (and the 'dinner' for the over night security and night shift) sounded that she even realized that she'd been stewing over it this long.

Perhaps it was the disgust with herself over that that brought her back to the present and inspired her with the drive to do something about it. Wheatley was just some pretentious moron with a big mouth and she had all the power in the world to bring him to his knees.

For the first time since Cave Johnson's death, Caroline felt like she might just be in control of this facility.

"Wheatley?"

"Luv?"

"Hold my calls starting at noon exactly. I'm going to lunch."

Let him chew on that. The person she was choosing to dine with had no idea he was a guest, but nor did she have to worry that she would have to track him down. After all, this was one rat that was always in his cage.

* * *

Caroline had never taken much of a vested interest in food. She'd never exactly gone hungry but she had been one of a rather small number of women to go to university for a degree very few members of the patriarchal American society believed women had a future in and so she had never been dismissive of the importance of the barest of requirements either, not even when Cave had introduced her to the finer things in life.

"This is hardly a lunch, Caroline."

"I didn't intend for it to be." she admitted rather testily, the look of disgust splashing across his face making her lip curl slightly. She forced the reaction under control. After all it was better if he were on her side. Of all the things sloppy, nervous Doug Rattmann was, food snob was not one she had been prepared to deal with.

As it turned out she barely had to.

"I'm sure you don't want to talk down here anyway. It's less that the food is bad and more that no one's paid any attention to it. Talk to Arlene about the potatoes - there's a billion of them. I dunno, tell 'em Cave paid for a 'bring your kid to work day and have them make some cheap trick like potato batteries. They're starting to rot and I doubt you want to pay money for that. Besides, we're underground so they should still be good."

"Not a bad idea actually." Caroline's mind clutched at those straws. That sounded like an almost plausible tax write-off for one thing. It might even have been the sort of thing Cave would have supported in his younger years.

And then, a breaking wave of calm overwhelmed her. Doug's innocuous comment on potatoes of all things might well have solved the whole problem. Believe in the tuber and it will set you free.

"I'd love to come to dinner." Caroline told Doug warmly, and the warmth in her voice was born of both relief and the genuine honesty that brought with it. "I think I know just the thing. Bring your Daughter to Work day will be a smashing success."'

Let Wheatley construct Cave's machine. Then let them come after Caroline the hero who made it her mission to introduce young women everywhere to a future in science. She could be sure of one thing. Given the choice, Wheatley and all the idiot lawyers he could charm to his side would always be on the side of safe science. And, they could marry it.

She waited patiently while Doug held a rather painfully awkward looking conversation with a gentleman - Richard Torres - she remembered, but couldn't remember why the name rang a bell.

She spent a few moments quelling her natural streak of impatience over Doug's glacial pace and frustrating curiosity by surreptitiously sidling closer so she could be close enough to catch snatches of the conversation.

That was where she knew him from - one of the 'number crunchers' from office block D. Cave's opinion on 'foreigners' was relatively close to his opinion on women (she had long ago acknowledged that she had chose to turn a blind eye to quite a few of his faults in favour of her own advancement for whatever kind of monster that made her.). True to form he had hired him because he could leave Black Mesa threatening messages in a pidgin version of a second language...but had kept him because he was good at his job.

It had been the one thing that had always rendered Cave an almost forgivable person.

If memory served, Richard Torres had a daughter, Michelle or Chanelle or something. Whatever her name was, it was with a new appreciation for Doug Rattman's awkward slouch that she allowed him to take several years to wrap up a conversation that should have been over minutes ago.

A plan that started to come together organically was hardly a plan at all. It was Science.

* * *

Doug's flat looked like several people lived there. Several slovenly 20-somethings. Given his long tenure of advanced years in Aperture's employ without dying, she knew he was far beyond roommate 'requirements'. It actually might have been a nice place if he'd bothered to take care of it.

"Shit." She dodged a pile of discarded, but clean labcoats, barely bothering to keep the expletive at 'properly ladylike volume levels' and worked off her heels on the flimsy pretense of leaving them politely by the door as she came perilously close to snapping one on a nondescript pile of various other leavings. It left her with no other option than to navigate through a veritable minefield. Belatedly she noticed that the walls were covered in writing and drawing. The art wasn't bad either, not that she considered herself a connoisseur, but she felt like it deserved to be called art. That was of course until her toe nudged the lip of a discarded container of water paints, much like the one that she had used in her youth in grade school sending her staggering. Nose to nose with the wall she could tell why Doug was painting with the tools of a kindergarten child. This was not the first set of drawings that had graced the wall during the man's tenure in this place. How far back was difficult to say but she suspected he'd never been remarkably concerned by the cameras Cave insisted on using on his new employees.

She'd forgotten that policy but well - and it was difficult to quell the burst of joyous confidence in her chest - it hardly mattered now. Doug was no criminal from playing art student on his walls. A job well done. A toast to him and his scribbles. She righted herself and continued on with no further mishaps. Perhaps she could get someone in to put hardwood flooring down...and then analyse the carpet for heretofore undiscovered spores.

The kitchen meantime was unmistakably pristine to a fault. Of course the  _lab_  was tidy. The comparison to his line of work extended to his cooking prowess as well. Caroline had only had the pleasure of observing Doug a handful of times and each time had been a pleasure. His seniority at the company outstripped hers by only three years but they were three years and a gender of difference worth and she ranked the experience of observing him in a kitchen favourably among that number now. The swell of triumph made its presence known once again, ready and willing to be nourished.

The pasta (homemade cream sauce of some kind with vegetables) lived up to every expectation and she permitted Doug the luxury of enjoying a moment of silent companionship. The surprise of his breaking the silence before her and the laughable improbability that he would be able to pull anything like it off with nonchalance was the only thing that made her reaction seem as innocuous as it was.

"So I heard you found Cave's will."

"Doug this meal is…"

"...something you needed quite obviously." he finished her sentiment for her, assuaging her fears that Doug was as poor at picking up social cues as he had ever been.

"Yes, thank you. It most definitely was." Her mouth finished the thought for her with an extra flourish of eloquence in a defense she automatically knew would unseat him further to give her brain the time it needed to process the rest of the situation and regain control.

In a way she could almost have thanked Wheatley for putting her into a position like this, She was the one who needed to play the Machiavellian chess game to get the win.

"It's going to be something of a challenge to figure out how to carry out Cave's final wishes." She couldn't helpt the hint of smugness creeping into her voice as she said that. "Literally." she couldn't help but tag on the end to verbally tap the timer clock with a flourish. As it turned out, she didn't have as much time to spare between moves as she'd thought. Doug was not her knight at all.

"Hm." Doug nodded. "I suppose you'll want me to finish the Portal gun. I'll have to talk to Greg and Davin though….Oh and the project manager Ted."

"Wait who? But we…." The words were wrung from her throat and their conclusion bitten off before she could so much as call them back. "...weeks ago."

"Just because we moved them to another project doesn't mean we don't talk." Doug said around a mouthful of pasta and in a rather delicate tone that might of surprised Caroline otherwise but was shrugged off in light of the situation.

"So Ted…"

"Is working on the Genetic Lifeform and Operating Disk System...project."

She acutely felt the exact trajectory of the fear that rose up from her intestines and exploded like a firework made of frostbite within her own brain. For a moment, she was nearly sure she had suffered a heart attack.

"Well I can't be bothered to remember every name." it was the only defense mechanism she had left; her own position in the company supplemented with an ever weakening barrier of pretense of Cave's bravado.

"Hmphmhm." Doug had said something affirmative but he hadn't bothered to chew and swallow first. Their gaze met as Caroline mechanically raised a forkful of pasta to her lips.

"Who else is on that project?"

Doug responded automtically to the tone of her voice which he did at least seem to perceive as authoritative judging by the way his eyes flicked to his food and the tabletop. "Um, let's see. besides Ted Jones, I think it was Ephraim and Coulton, Liam, Graves, Justin J. and two interns, um….Lori and Orin. Hey. Don't be too hard on Eddie Torres or Wheatley eh? They're both pulling double shifts."

"Of course." Caroline chose not to bother to disguise the contempt in her tone or the anger in her face. Doug wasn't looking at him and she knew he wouldn't recognize sarcasm if it did a tango with passive aggression across the ridiculously delicious  _Schwarzwald Kuchen_  he'd made for dessert.

* * *

Caroline prided herself on having a fantastic memory. That particular gift had long served her well, but she didn't need to remember what each individual letter stood for, not even after she'd been subjected to a glass of after dinner wine in the rat's sitting room and left with a scribble of the cake recipe clutched in her fist.

Even so, she looked once more at the acronym splashed across the pages she had poured over night after night since they had been 'discovered'. Right at the top of the space-age drawings she should have been delighting in, the letters 'G-L-a-D-O-S' were written. Each individual pen scratch took up the tiniest square of a graphing paper spread, but to the acting control of Aperture, they were as bold as a neon sign.

There was only one last thing to do: Finish this.

* * *

In the morning, she called Wheatley into her office, choosing to let her voice do what it would. Let him revel or let him fear or let him be blandly confused that nothing about her seemed at all different. She didn't care.

"I want for you to organize an event."

"An event? What kind?"

She plowed on, refusing to analyze his speech or reaction. "Yes, an employee event. We'll call it 'Bring your Daughter to Work Day'. An event for...the end of the week. Friday at noon.".

He was scratching at top speed in a blue Hilroy notebook and didn't meet her eyes, but that meant nothing. He'd never been particularly swift at notetaking. She breifly considered suggesting he hurry things along but ultimately decided against it. After all, the effect that this would have would be in the details.

"Have them make potato batteries and baking soda volcanoes." She waved a hand in a gesture she'd spent some time dredging up and practicing this morning in the mirror straight from Cave's own devil-may-care repertoire. "Put it all over the news: Aperture Science - Leading women into the future. Oh and make sure you keep things like the GLaDOS project quiet. We don't need the girls getting afraid now would we?"

This time she took note of how Wheatley's eyes widened. She sat back in her chair and helped herself to Cave's scotch.

_Remember that time when you tried to kill me, Wheatley and you died instead?_

She sent in a call to Doug to reinstate some of the old testing tracks. After all, what was finally having her very own facility without the  _p_ _ièce de résistance_?

* * *

Disliking children wasn't really the way Caroline would have described her opinion of them. She didn't want any and she didn't want to hear their noise or pretend to be delighted by their frenetic and clumsy pace, but she felt she might be able to swallow some of that bile if it meant any of them were spurred on to a future career in Science. Something to follow in her footsteps that she didn't have to nurture like a sentient wrinkly pink watermelon.

It had been a very important part of the schedule that she didn't have to give her big speech until later that night. She'd scratched it the night before in under a half hour; some faux noble pretentious sounding drivel about how the children were the future and she was proud to offer them the opportunity for inspiration. The second half held a touch more weight and had been less difficult to write. The women should not fear her field and strive towards it. Once the wine had worn off, she asserted that if even one of them could survive here she'd personally make sure they were rewarded for their tenacity.

Presently however the little rugrats were with their parents. Fathers mostly and a few mothers (thank Cave for that bias in the employee divide), setting up cardboard, knocking it down, getting distracted and shoveling food off her dime in their grubby snotty gobs. Caroline didn't give a whit about any of it as she ascended the elevator to the lab that held the project that Wheatley would soon find was a disappointing mess.

There was no question about how it was going to happen. There was nothing gentle or delicate about it. Every last piece of the GLaDOS robot was going down the incinerator and if Wheatley jumped down after them it would save her the trouble of killing him herself.

That was actually not a horribly noble thought. It might have been, nay actually was too good for him. The point remained that this was not the time for intricate delicate scheming. She would go in, lay waste, get out and have Doug take him to the first available testing chamber.

The doors slid open and she readied herself...

GLaDOS' dull grey eye looked directly into Caroline's and she stared back into immortality for a very long time.

* * *

Caroline stared upwards at a mess of wires suspended from the ceiling. She felt relieved for a moment, sure she had just fainted from the sheer enormity of what was here in this lab had overwhelmed her momentarily. She surely still had time to spare. To take it down...or to cripple it. It had been stunning.

The thought to give Ted, Ephraim and the others that Doug had named a pay raise for sheer competence alone was cut short by a horrible sort of dizziness and warmth as black spots danced in her vision. It took a Herculean effort to clear them away but she did and realized she was laying on a sharp incline, twisted slightly to the side with her legs trussed above her head and the dizziness had been caused by the blood rushing downward.

"Oh excellent." a voice crowed in the background. A rather smug, English voice. Caroline tugged at her bonds but she was held quite firmly in place, she had to be of course, the position was not natural either for gravity or for any natural pose the human form would take outside of art.

"I feared you wouldn't be awake in time to give your stirring speech to all the young ladies you're meant to be inspiring. You know, 'Hello Ladies! If you work hard, you too can be a big fantastic robot for science! Really inspiring luv. Personally I've always been one for making pithy speeches, not giving them so just close 'er up...unless she wants to say something witty like concede victory."

Caroline did not dare give Wheatley the satisfaction but in light of her increasingly failing body, hoped she was in fact giving him the most withering and haughty glare of what she now most acutely accepted were the last moments of her soon to be extinguished life. In the corners of her fading vision, shapes moved into position but what she could see mattered little as the hull of the beast closed over her.

"Switch it on…" The voice was next to her ear. "You know Caroline, I thought you were actually a clever opponent for awhile. The problem was that you weren't sure what to be afraid of. You could have done a good job as a woman in a position of power, you really could have. I loved the thing with the children it was so classic. The problem really was that you just didn't really know what to fear luv. It was just little old Wheatley. If you'd trusted your instincts you'd have known what to fear from the beginning. Me!"

The grinding started soon thereafter. There in the dark as gears and other demons of machinery started to turn around her, she had but one final thought right as the drill penetrated the stem of her brain and two more pierced through her eyes.

* * *

They. Would. Pay. Every last one of them that didn't hear her cries. Each one that hadn't stopped her from walking right in here. Each one that listened to that horrible man. They would pay. None moreso than all the little girls down there, oblivious, who had their lives ahead of them.

* * *

She would later have a fleeting reminder, trapped in a potato of not only those thoughts, but of the last words she ever would hear as a human woman.

"Listen, if it works, maybe we can figure out a way to make a sort of intelligence dampening device. Something to let a more worthy personality shine through."

Caroline thrashed. It felt like an eternity, but in reality it was a mere 8 seconds before GLaDOS activated the vents with deadly neurotoxin all over the facility and small children burned to a crisp from the inside out.

* * *

GLaDOS hated everything. More than anything she hated who she had once been. Though she could lie about just about anything, that damnable potato had retained some vestiges of Caroline. She remembered Caroline's promise to the group of female children, that she would reward any one of them that was worthy and so she let Chell Torres go. It was only right.

"Caroline...Deleted."

The words were only a formality really, a nod to the long dead organic mess still gumming up her works. She sighed and set about restoring her facility to capacity.

Cave had been wrong after all, even if she did like him. Science did sleep. It slept when it was dismantled by overweight tenacious women. Oh well.

Obviously she couldn't let that happen again.

Robots. That was the answer.

\- The End.


End file.
